Dear Person Who's Talking to Me About My Weight

If I were fat, would you tell me how fat I am?  I hope not.  So why are you telling me I'm skinny?

Do you see the double standard?  You're participating in it.  It's unfortunate that our society prizes skinny. Does that mean we have to protect fat people's feelings but skinny people are open for judgment?

What if I have an eating disorder?  What if I have a medical condition that causes me to lose weight?  You have no idea what's going on behind the scenes, and you could be causing me serious emotional injury with a comment you seem to think is innocent.

I have been roughly the same weight since college.  Have you?  I can hop on the elliptical at any point in my life regardless of how long I've been away and do 30 minutes.  Can you?  I can carry a 1960s TV cabinet that houses a 20" CRT TV, a DVD player, and a VCR down a flight a stairs without any help.  Can you?  I challenge you to find someone who doesn't work out who's in the shape I'm in.

My blood pressure is normal.  My appetite is the same as it's always been.  I am not anemic.  I am not malnourished.  I can drop and give you 20.  My BMI is normal.  Is yours?  Yes, I lose my appetite when I get stressed.  When you start stress eating, do I tell you how fat you're getting?

From a skinny person to a fatter person -- next time, think before you speak.

Peace.

P.S. Don't be jealous.  You look good too.

*

This was so much more eloquent when I was lying in bed not falling asleep because I was arguing with stupid people in my head.

When it's perfect, I'm printing it out and taking it to my next appointment with my psychiatrist.  Of all the people...

This is a version of "all shapes are beautiful."  So if you are not comment-invoking skinny, just remember that you are beautiful.  All shapes are.  And if you are skinny, remember that "real women have curves" is ignorant crap.

My BMI is not normal right now.  I have been stress-not-eating.  But it is usually normal, and I am chunking it in.

God dammit.  The birds are up.

P.S.  I have no idea what decade the TV cabinet came from.  But it was deep and belly-button height and awkward.  I freecycled it and the woman who was picking it up had to return with help to load it into her minivan.  She had 3 stairs to descend, which I ascended to leave it for her.  It's unfortunate that Wonder Woman wasn't home to help her out.

P.P.S.  I should work out anyway.  Or dance if I could fall asleep and not argue with people in my head even after taking Benadryl and Ativan and gluten-free beer (not in that order) and then wake up to dance.  Cardiovascular goodness.

P.P.P.S. I thought I was anemic recently.  My bloodwork said I was on the low side but not over the line.  I took iron.  And then I figured out that I was taking Ativan every day and that's why I was sleeping so much.

P.P.P.P.S. Ativan is an anti-anxiety drug that zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz